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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838953">beware clowns wielding bug spray</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars'>hailingstars</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>unbelievably unlikely (febuwhump 2020) [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Allergies, Clowns, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Nightmares, Temporary Blindness, bug spray, febuwhump 2020, here's a short one, if anyone would get sprayed with bug spray by a clown it'd be Peter, lethal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:13:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kid,” he said. He put a hand on his shoulder, and his touch made the beeping even less tense. “What happened?” </p>
<p>“I don’t want to tell you,” said Peter.</p>
<p>“Pete –“</p>
<p>“-don’t laugh.”</p>
<p>Peter could hear the smirk on Mr. Stark’s lips. </p>
<p>“We both know I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” </p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Peter gets sprayed in the face with bug spray by a clown robbing a gas station.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>unbelievably unlikely (febuwhump 2020) [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>473</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>beware clowns wielding bug spray</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter was laid up in a hospital bed, with bandages covering his eyes, and tubes in his nose. A machine pumped oxygen into his lungs, and another machine beeped somewhere near his bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was loud and steady, and Peter wished someone would make it stop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His super hearing already went into overdrive when he was stressed, but now he was blinded, temporarily, and it was as if all the senses that left his eyes went to ears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He felt on edge. He felt like his eardrums were being stabbed with razor blades, until he heard rushed footsteps and a familiar, beating-too-fast, probably from caffeine and anxiety, heartbeat, getting closer and closer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Stark stepped into his hospital room. Peter didn’t need his eyes to see him. He heard him, yeah, but he came with a wave of comfort, like a warm blanket of a cold night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He let out a sigh of relief as his footsteps got closer to the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kid,” he said. He put a hand on his shoulder, and the touch made the beeping even less tense. “What happened?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t want to tell you,” said Peter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pete –“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“-don’t laugh.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter could hear the smirk on Mr. Stark’s lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We both know I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had all started with bell chime on the door of the 7/11 in Queens. Peter remembered, and described, the way his shoes squeaked against the floor as he walked straight to the slushie counter. He grabbed a cup, shoved it under the nozzle, and pushed the button, watching the red slush pour into the ill-fated, clear, plastic cup.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? Are you telling me you’re sitting here with your eyes bandaged up because you slipped on a spilled slushie?” asked Mr. Stark, like always, cutting him off mid-story.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not finished!” said Peter. “I got my slushie… and that’s, that’s when the clown showed up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or maybe, he mused, the clown had always been there, just waiting for Peter to turn around and face him, waiting just to startle him into dropping and ruining a perfectly good slushie.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The plastic cup slipped through his fingers. Red slushie splattered on the floor, all over his shoes, and then the clown, well he pulled a knife from his ridiculously colorful jumpsuit and waved it around at the cashier, demanding money.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter had reasoned he could handle some light stabs if it meant Pennywise over there didn’t get away with the cash, or more importantly, get away with walking around like that, probably scaring every person who saw him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It should be illegal to dress up like a clown,” Peter told him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t be so dramatic,” said Mr. Stark. He was sat down in the chair beside Pete’s bed, with his feet kicked up on the edge of the mattress. “Not everyone is afraid of clowns.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe not Iron Man, but normal people,” said Peter, then kept going, choosing to ignore the obvious irony that Mr. Stark, of all people, was calling him dramatic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter had approached the clown, slowly, cautiously, but none of that mattered. The clown seemed to know he was coming, and a knife, unfortunately, hadn’t been his weapon of choice. He went of a weapon of opportunity. He grabbed a can of bug spray off the shelf next to him, unscrewed the lid and sprayed Peter right in the face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The story end with Peter on the ground, his eyes burning and his lungs not wanting to work properly. The cashier was freaking out, and the clown was laughing, as he stepped over him to get out of the door with all the cash.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rhodey was the first to respond to the distress call Peter’s watch sent out to the Tower, and Peter had never felt more thankful to be scrapped off the floor and brought to the Tower’s Medbay .</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bug spray?” asked Tony, laughing, just as Peter knew he would. “When were you gonna tell me bug spray was so lethal for you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t know,” said Peter, fighting the smile the was creeping up on his face. He supposed, despite the fact that he couldn’t see, at least not at the moment, it was a little funny. “Why did it have to be a clown, though?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cause it’s you,” said Mr. Stark. There was a fondness in his voice. The way the air was moving around, Peter thought he might be shaking his head back and forth. “Cho says it’s gonna heal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was comforting to hear, although Peter already knew. There was no way Tony would be laughing if any of the damage done to him were permanent. He’d be out clown hunting. Instead he was staying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was still chuckling under his breath a little bit, and barely hold back his smile, but he stayed.</p>
<p>He was there when Peter fell asleep, and there still when he woke up a few hours later, with his head swimming and his heart pounding from a nightmare he couldn’t remember.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hands flew to the bandages wrapped around his head, clawing at them, trying to pull them off, thinking that if he could just see, he’d be able to breathe again. If he could just see, he’d know he wasn’t still in the nightmare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, kid,” said Mr. Stark. He caught one of his hands. “I gotcha. It was just a dream.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter exhaled, the panic suddenly zapped out of him, as he looked around and continued to see nothing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s it. Just breathe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Stark squeezed his hand, and kept on holding on, even as Peter’s breathing became normal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You good?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah – yeah I’m good,” said Peter. “I just, I lost it was real for a minute there. Um, when can these come off?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cho says it should be healed by the morning.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And what time is it now?” asked Peter, a hint of frustration in his voice at not being able to check and see the time for himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Almost 2 AM.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well technically it is the morning.” Peter brought his free hand to his face, only for Mr. Stark to playfully swat it away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just a few more hours,” he told him. “Close your eyes and go to sleep and they’ll be taking them off before you know it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My eyes are already closed,” snapped Peter. He knew it was a joke, a lame attempt at one at least, but he just – he just “I need to be able to see.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mr. Stark gave his hand another squeeze. There was moving around as he climbed up on the bed with him, laying so their shoulders touched, and Peter could both feel and hear the rhythm of Mr. Stark’s breath. He didn’t let go of his hand, rather, he pressed his thumb into the top of his hand, letting Peter focus on something else over his lack of sight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just focus on me,” he told him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter nodded, and he did. He didn’t have any other choice. He focused on his breathing, aligning his with Mr. Stark’s, and eventually, slowly, he drifted back off to sleep, and didn’t wake back up until it was time to take the bandages off his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Time to see the world around him blink into blurry focus, time for them, the both of them, to go clown hunting and return the money stolen from the 7/11, but most importantly, time for Peter to go back and get a slushie that would end up in his belly instead of the floor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading!! I know this was is LATE jfkdsajfklasfjdklasfja</p>
<p>comments and/or kudos let me know what you think !!!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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